


Penniless, With Presents

by Mackem



Series: Imaginary Advent Calendar 2012 [12]
Category: Flight of the Conchords (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:50:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bret and Jemaine are poor, sure. But that doesn't mean they can't give each other a Christmas gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penniless, With Presents

**Author's Note:**

> Every year, I write what I call my Imaginary Advent Calendar, where each day until December 25th I open another day of an advent calendar that doesn’t exist and write what I picture various people or characters in different shows/fandoms/books in a holidays context. This year I’ve challenged myself to write a ficlet for every day. See Vicky panic! They’ll be in various different fandoms and pairings, and won’t be particularly long (except the ones that eat my brain). Enjoy! X!
> 
> Flight of the Conchords, how I miss you. Please come back to us.

“Jemaine?”

Jemaine plucks a few notes on his bass, writes them down carefully, then answers from across their living room. “Yeah, Bret?”

“You know Christmas?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you know Christmas is soon?”

“Yeah?” Jemaine had been vaguely aware that it had been getting colder, at least. That still doesn’t feel particularly seasonal to him, but now he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure the Official Consulate of New Zealand calendar Murray had given them was now flipped to December. It had a picture of a penguin waddling through a forest.

Bret’s staring at him from the kitchen, eyebrows drawn together in thought as he stirs a tiny splash of milk into his tea. “Are we gonna buy presents for each other?”

“I don’t think we can afford to, Bret,” Jemaine says with a frown. “We don’t actually have any money.”

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot,” Bret says. He pouts, just a little. “I still want to get you something, though.”

Jemaine screws his face up. “What about if…I paid the electricity bill for you, and you paid the rent for me, and that’ll be our Christmas presents?”

“Won’t we have to pay them anyway, though?” Bret asks. Jemaine shrugs.

“Yes? The only money we’ve got is for bills. But maybe if we say they’re presents…”

“It’s not very Christmassy though, is it?” Bret mumbles as he drinks his tea. Jemaine brightens as an idea strikes. His fingers pluck instinctively at his bass as he speaks.

“You could write me a note saying you‘ve done it, on a piece of paper, and put it in an envelope. And then give it to me on Christmas, and I’ll open it, and I might say thank you.”

Silence falls as Bret glances at the clock and drains his tea. “You _might_ say thank you for my Christmas present?” he asks as he rinses the cup out and dries it with a threadbare tea towel.

“Well, yes, Bret, I don’t want to ruin the anticipation for you by telling you if I will or not,” Jemaine protests, before mumbling, “Plus we’d be paying the bills anyway, and it’s my money too, so…I don‘t see why I‘d have to say thank you for something we were already doing. That‘s not a very Christmassy attitude of you, you know. Demanding thanks like that.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Bret huffs as he settles cross-legged on the sofa. “Well, okay, we’ll do the bill-paying present, then.” Silence falls between them for a moment. Jemaine fills a few minutes transcribing the bassline he’s working on and Bret begins to strum his guitar aimlessly as he thinks, the melody already working around Jemaine‘s bass. “I still want to give you a proper present,” he sighs after awhile, his brown eyes darting around the apartment for inspiration. “What if I made something for you?”

“Not a super straw, please,” Jemaine says immediately. “Because…uh, I’ve still got the one you gave me for my birthday. I think it’s probably got a lot of use left.”

“They’re very durable,” Bret agrees amiably. His fingers dance over the guitar strings effortlessly as he speaks. “It’s an advantage of the super-straw design. What about if I made you a hairmet?”

Jemaine thinks about this. “I think that’d be good,” he offers. “I quite like yours. Would it be with my hairstyle, though?”

“Of course it‘d have The Jemaine. It’d be pretty silly if you were cycling about with a helmet with hair and it wasn’t your own hairstyle,” Bret scoffs. Jemaine nods.

“That _would_ be silly.” He joins Bret in playing, the two of them matching each other musically as he wanders through the room to settle beside Bret on the couch. Eventually Jemaine asks, “What about if I wrote you a song?”

“Hmm?”

“For Christmas. As a Christmas present. I could write you a song.”

Bret’s nose wrinkles. “Would it mention spooning again?”

“No, probably not,” Jemaine sighs, disgruntled. Bret is giving him a firm look.

“Because I don’t think I like that the spooning was a lyric in the last one.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want people to hear you spooned me without my permission.”

“I _know_ , Bret. To be fair,” Jemaine grumbles, “It would only be for you. Nobody else would ever hear it.”

“Nobody hears any of our songs,” Bret points out.

“Yeah, but this would be because I wasn’t playing it to anyone, not because people weren’t there to hear it,” protests Jemaine. Bret nods at this subtle difference.

After a moment, Bret says, “You could just spoon me, though.”

“What?” Jemaine’s hands falter on his bass, and he looks to Bret in no small surprise. His friend takes a deep breath.

“I don’t think I would like you to sing about spooning me,” Bret says slowly. At first his eyes are fixed firmly to his guitar as he speaks, but after a moment he turns to look at Jemaine through his long lashes. Jemaine cannot help but stare. “But I think you _could_ spoon me. As a Christmas present.”

Jemaine brightens. “Yeah? While you know about it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You’d want that?”

“Yeah.”

Jemaine smiles. “Okay.”

“Maybe,” Bret adds after a deep breath, “You could practice. Before Christmas.”

“To make sure the Christmas one is good?” suggests Jemaine, and blinks as Bret aims a pleased smile at him.

“I’ll even say thank you, after. I know that ruins the anticipation but I thought maybe it would encourage you. Knowing I‘ll say thank you.”

“I don’t think I need any encouragement,” Jemaine says, and lets Bret see his smile. “Not if you’re giving me permission.”

“Yup. That’s an early Christmas present from me,” Bret says, and leans back against Jemaine’s chest, nuzzling under his chin. His bass is in the way, but it’s still nice. “I’m giving you permission to spoon with me. If you want.”

Jemaine does.


End file.
